Ghost Of A Smile
by Oh Mina Obscener
Summary: Claire stumbled out of the jungle in the middle of the night, and ran right into Locke and Boone.. Once back at the caves Charlie feels the urge to confess his transgression of reading her diary...
1. Default Chapter

1**Disclaimer:** Not mine, making no $... Actually making no money in anything, let alone my writing.

**A/N:** I didn't plan on posting this as it was written for my enjoyment purposes, but I decided to put it up for others enjoyment purposes also. If it doesn't meet your standards... Sorry.

Charlie was worried about Claire. Ever since the night where she had wandered out of the jungle to Locke and Boone, she had barley spoken. She refused to eat, and drank little. Her flat stomach sent Charlie's mind wild with ideas and scenario's, all of them terrible and negative about the child she had carried. He wished Claire would tell him something as much as everyone else did, but Jack's diagnosis was trauma, and emotional shock. He said she would come around, and that she probably needed him right now. Charlie didn't ask what that was supposed to mean, but he guessed it wasn't an indication to badger her to say something. This , he wouldn't do.

He was sick of gathering firewood. It wasn't exactly one of his favorite pastimes, and he was sick of it. But he still did it, mainly because someone had to and there was a lack of anything else to do. But one evening when he was headed back to the caves with arms full of sticks, he spotted Claire sitting by herself. Why she would even dream of leaving camp and people ever again was beyond Charlie.

"Hey, Claire." He called. She jumped, and looked at him. A ghost of a smile fluttered on her lips, but it did not match the deep pain in her eyes.

Charlie quickly abandoned the firewood and joined her, sitting on a rock. He wished she would say something.

"What are you doing out here, at this time of the day? It's getting dark. And cold." Charlie put his sweatshirt around her shoulders and she bit her lip and nodded, still making no move to get up.

"I was getting some firewood, you should come back and we can make a fire to sit by. It's really much better with a fire." He told her softly, taking her pale hand in his and rubbing his thumb near her wrist. "A fire is light and warmth. Im not saying we're going to toast marsh mellows and make hot chocolate but it will give me an excuse to be near you again. If you'd like that." Another attempted smile from Claire, and eye contact for a brief moment. Ah, he was getting somewhere.

He stood and helped her to her feet. They walked back in silence, Charlie with the wood. Once at camp he started a fire and she watched him, hey blue eyes following his every move. If Charlie had looked up at her, he would have noticed that her mind was doubtlessly elsewhere.

He longed also to converse with her on the more recent matter of her diary, and how he now knew some of the feelings Claire harbored for him. But there was no round-about way Charlie could see in doing this, and he would have to directly state that he had indeed sought, found, and read her Diary, a widely-known word that was understood to be a secret journal only to be seen by the writer's eyes alone, and unless there were two friends giggling at a sleep-over and permitted each other to read select pages of the said diary, it was also understood that it went unread. Charlie not only had trouble bringing up the subject, but felt it was necessary. His thoughts kept straying back to the incident. It reminded him of Poe's eerie "The Tell Tale Heart" in which a murderer entertains guilty thoughts in the company of two policeman, directly on the floor under which he had buried a body of an old man whom he had smothered hours previous. Though Charlie's transgression was nothing of this scale, he felt the same way the author had described the guilt of the murderer. His heart began to beat harder when he thought of reading her diary, and his face heated considerably. His mind raced with explanation and excused he would have no reason to yet make. He was thankful Claire seemed to take no notice of this.

On one casual , innocent occasion, Claire was sound asleep around noontime, and little was going on about her sleeping form. Charlie noticed the bruises on her face, and while he sat beside her, stroked her marred cheek with his forefinger. A butterfly's wing couldn't have been gentler. She stirred slightly, but her eyes remained closed and Charlie wondered if the bruises were inflicted upon her fair skin by the strike from Ethan, or one like him. A smile dashed over his lips as he thought of her diary, and how her penmanship had flawlessly inscribed how secure and safe Charlie made her feel. He thought bitterly for a moment on how he had failed at this, and the corners of his mouth fell. He cut off these pointless musings and regrets and focused on how peaceful in sleep his Claire was, and how he wished never to leave her side again, for fear she might be swept off at any moment. Claire's neutral expression shifted to one of fear and concern in her sleep, and she moaned lightly and her eyes fluttered. Charlie said nothing, as she might drift back into her nap, but it looked as if that were not likely.

"Claire?" He asked.

She started at the sound of his voice and shied away, shrinking towards the wall of the cave they were in, her eyes still blinking sleep away. He touched her wrist, and she flinched and gasped.

"Claire," Charlie's tone was hurt. "Its me, Charlie. Its ok." He held out his palms to show he meant no harm to her, and upon further wakening, she sighed in relief and crumpled. Charlie caught her and supported her she took a few shaky breaths, re-gaining her composure. Charlie noted with pleasure that even once Claire's thoughts were in full order and she no longer trembled, she made no move to remove herself from his strong embrace.

"Sorry about that..." Her breathless voice floated to Charlie's ears.

"No, don't be sorry love. Be .... anything but sorry."

She smiled faintly. Charlie wished he could stay like this a while longer yet, without interruption, but of course, living in such close proximity to thirty-plus people, this would prove difficult. Charlie took the moment and ran with it.

"Claire I-I ... read your diary." He blurted out without thinking.

"What?" She inquired in a whisper.

"You know, the little blue diary you keep... I read a part or..three or so.. Of it. Can you forgive me?" Claire pulled her head away from Charlie's chest to look him in the eyes. His expression was anxious, his brows knit together in nervous anticipation.

"Charlie... In the past several weeks I have boarded a plane, survived an impossible crash with less than a scratch, been kidnaped, seemingly _misplaced_ my _child _with absolutely no recollection of the incident in which this happened, escaped from being a captive to a very hostile and violent island native," Her hand brushed her bruised face, " and I stumble back into the ' cradle of civilization' which is these god-forsaken caves, back into the arms of my best friend in the world, and he_ tells me he read my diary while I was away?!_" She exclaimed. "How would that make me feel?"

"Like hell. It would make you leave his arms and spit on him and kick him and call him bloody scum and never look him in the eye again..." Charlie said indignantly, hating himself.

"Actually, Charlie. I care very little. I guess you've read what I mentioned about you?" He nodded.

"Good." Charlie's eyes widened considerably when she said this.

"It makes it much easier to let you know how I feel that way." And, sighing, she laid back in his arms. Charlie laughed under his breath in disbelief and hugged her closely.

"Charlie?"

"Yea?"

"Are you hungry? Coz I'm starving."

"Lets get something to eat then."

A/N: Leave a review and I will be forever indebted to your kind services! :)


	2. Back Where They Started

1Disclaimer: Lost and all associated with it are not mine and do now belong to me.

There was a gap she could never cross. She couldn't in childhood with her relationships, and she was impossibly aloof in her teenage years with her boyfriends, and obviously it hadn't worked out with Thomas. Something was different with Charlie. There was this awesome connection we had, that she never felt with anyone else. Something that told her the gap had been breached, and her walls were down. She wondered if they would ever leave the island, and if they would ever live out normal lives. This was highly doubtful. Look at the french woman. Look at how she was a captive only days ago to a man who belonged to this island. What was Ethan's story? Was he born here? Was he the victim of a crash or a shipwreck just as they were? Were they doomed to live out his very fate?

She glanced sideways at Charlie as she recorded these thoughts in her diary. The not so secret one. But somehow she felt very comfortable with Charlie having read her diary, It was like her secrets were his now, and that was totally alright with her. It was out of her character not to care that her privacy was invaded , but in this case she found it a rather intimate gesture, one she totally understood and did not mind.

Claire wondered is she should return to the beach. After all, that had been what she was doing when she was..interrupted by Ethan. And it was all because she did not feel safe at the caves. She felt she was always being watched, and she was being attacked at night. Lately she hadn't been dreaming about the black rock, and to make sure of this she quietly eluded frightening thoughts before she went to sleep, and instead eluded them by focusing intensely on conjuring images in her mind's eye , like snow falling softly in the dead of night onto majestic, ancient pines. Or she pretended that she could still hear the calming ocean waves she loved so much from where she lay.

This especially made her miss the beach. She thought she should go back, and if there was ever a rescue ship, she would be among the fist to see their savior vessel. She longed to go back to the sand where the island seemed less nightmarish and she could pretend she was on a vacation where there was a volleyball net and hot dog stand just behind her.

'-But maybe,' Claire scribbled onto the page 'I don't need to go back to the beach in order to feel safe. After all, I have Charlie. I know I've said this before, but he makes me feel safe even with such vast and unpredictable terrors that seem to breed in this place.'

Claire shut the little blue book as Charlie approached her.

"Claire?"

"Yea?"

"Your restless, aren't you." Charlie eyes her knowingly. Claire looked up, slightly startled.

"What makes you say that?" She inquired.

"Well, your knee, for one." He said. She looked down and saw that she had been jiggling one leg involuntarily. She stopped it immediately and looked back up into Charlie's eyes.

"And your lip." He grazed his forefinger along her bottom lip, which was sore-looking from where she had bitten it.

She glanced around.

"And the way that you are always doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Looking around like your making sure there's still a way out.-What is it? Tell me..." Charlie coaxed.

"Charlie.. Remember when we were taken by Ethan? Where we were going?"

"Of course." He replied. "We were going to the beach. You were being attacked at night, and you were scared. You felt safer at the beach. Your not thinking about going back are you?" He sat beside her on the ground.

"Well.. " She began. "It's hard to explain. See, when I'm at the beach, everything seems less dark. Less oppressive, and I feel less claustrophobic than in the thick closeness of the jungle. I can see the sun rise and set.. And .. I love the waves." She finished rather lamely.

"Ah." Charlie said. He thought for a moment and then tucked a stray strand of Claire's hair behind her ear.

"Well," He said barely above a whisper.

"Why don't you go to the beach?"

Claire looked at him, and he looked at her.

"I-"

"You what?"

"I don't really want to be alone there."

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. Who says you'll be alone?"

Claire smiled widely.


End file.
